


Nowadays

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Episode Related, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-22
Updated: 2004-10-22
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Nowadays, he doesn't like to think too much.





	Nowadays

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Thanks so much to my beta, Amanda, for her wonderful job!  


* * *

Nowadays, he doesn’t like to think too much.

Thinking only leads to bad things. It leads to apologies, to regrets, and he decided a long time ago that he didn’t do either of those.

So, he acts.

He dresses to seduce, drinks a shot or two, pops a pill or takes a tab of E, and dances.

And when he’s had enough of both, he goes to the backroom. And fucks and gets sucked and comes and finds some kind of relief.

Then he goes back to the dance floor, dances some more, drinks some more, and fucks some more.

And when he’s so tired he can’t even stand, and he’s so drugged or drunk he can’t even see his own fucking hand, he gets Mickey to take him home.

That way, when he lies in bed on his back looking at the ceiling, he quickly falls in a deep sleep.

He always dreams, because it’s only during the dreams that he can admit to himself some things, only during the dreams does he see reality the way it truly is.

But then, when morning comes and the sun with its rays filters through the blinds of his bedroom, he simply chooses to forget he even had them.

He conveniently pushes back in the recess of his mind whatever thought may lead to... bad things.

So he goes on, wakes up every day, does his work, fucks himself to exhaustion, goes to sleep, and on and on again.

He thinks he’s never been better, never felt more alive.

He’s living by his own standards and by his own beliefs, ignoring everyone’s intromissions and un-requested suggestions.

He’s always been alone, always been independent, and frankly, he never gave a shit about what other people thought.

He doesn’t, not even now.

His life is perfect, he’s truly convinced of that. He doesn’t think he could feel any better.

Except that...

Yesterday, as he was searching for a conditioner in the cabinets under the sink, he casually came across a vanilla scented shampoo.

Now, he would never, ever use such thing. He likes his hair unscented, thank you very much.

So, as he was turning back towards the shower to get rid of the offensive object, he caught a flash of blond hair.

He blinked for a moment, and then effectively checked to confirm that there weren’t any blondes in his shower. He then threw the shampoo in the bin.

Nowadays, he sees even too many blondes for his liking.

Every fucking trick seems to be blond. He thinks he’s getting really tired of it.

Nevertheless, he keeps on doing what he’s always done.

Today he wakes up, takes a shower, pulls an Armani suit on his well-toned body and on his way to Vanguard makes a stop at Starbucks and buys a hot coffee.

Once he’s seated in his chair in his office, he checks today’s agenda, and he’s genuinely relieved to find there aren’t any important meetings.

He thinks he’ll check the mock-ups he commissioned to the art department.

So he rides the elevator down, struts in the room with a confident air around himself and goes straight to the head art department.

And then he catches a flash of blond hair once again.

He blinks, as if that small action could erase his presence here... but this time the presence seems more interested in staying.

It’s his...

“Brian, this is the new intern, Justin Taylor.”

Yeah, he definitively doesn’t like to think much, these days.

But, he has the weird sensation that maybe, just maybe, from now he’ll be obliged to again.


End file.
